


For All Your Words

by ChaoticEther



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, mentions of abuse, sun and tai make minor appearances, young meeting au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticEther/pseuds/ChaoticEther
Summary: Fifteen. It seems far too young to meet the love of your life. At least, it did, until Blake crashed into Yang's.





	For All Your Words

Yang’s grown a lot over summer. Blonde hair falls past her shoulders as the brush runs through it, and she’s easily taller than last year, but it’s like her arms are playing catch-up, still barely reaching out of the size of blazer she now has to wear.

“You’ll be fine!” Ruby repeats for what feels like the hundredth time that morning. “You look better than I do,” she laughs, runs a hand through the red highlights she’ll no doubt be asked to dye despite them being natural.

“I know, I just…” she sighs, wrestles with an admission she’s forced to make. “You think Weiss will notice?”

“Yang, you’re like, eight feet tall with a look that could murder someone. It’d be hard for anyone to _not_ notice.” Her sister reminds her, helps tie her hair into a purple bow.

Anyone, it turns out, is Blake Belladonna. A transfer student, attending Signal now that her parents are trying to put down roots in one place. She’s too busy looking at the ground to notice the people around her, finds a bench to watch the world rush by on and does just that. Two girls jump out of the same car, bags loosely swung over one shoulder as the taller one points who Blake can only assume is her sister in the right direction. Apparently, her stifled laugh still carries, locking eyes and working on parts of a smile between them.

“What’s so funny?” Yang probes, knows the answer but indulges her teasing side for once.

“Y-your headgear,” Blake stutters, caught like a deer in headlights, “aren’t you a little old for one of those?”

The new girl is right. She’s older than most people who need headgear to correct their teeth would be; but Yang’s impatient, and would much rather look stupid for a few months than wear braces for years.

“Aren’t _you_ a little old to be dressing like a member of My Chemical Romance?” She smirks; someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind around her always proves to be entertaining.

“You got me,” her arms fold across her chest, leaning back against the bench and sighing, “I’m resitting this year for the fifth time, just like you.”

That’s the first time it hits her, and she barely survives, heart skipping every other beat. A smile, lopsided and earnest, and she swears it’s real. Never been in love before, not really, but something tells her the search is over before she’s even started looking. It’s standing right in front of her, looking at her _like that_ without seeing the political benefits, or someone to manipulate and control. Yang catches herself watching Blake in silence for a little too long, laughs off the sarcasm and bounces a little to regain some energy.

“I’m Yang!” The blonde introduces, extends an open hand to greet her.

“Blake.” She grabs her hand, and letting go isn’t a possibility any more. Signs the dotted lines that give unfettered access to her soul in a heartbeat, almost forgets they only have a few minutes before class starts. A few steps later and Yang stops her, turns her around; for a brief second, it seems like she might ask her to run away like she’s thought about doing her whole life.

“Let me carry you.” The fact her face doesn’t even let a hint of humour slip makes the offer practically irresistible, “I know a thing or two about picking up girls.”

Talking to the teacher before he took attendance was the sort of thing that’s impossible not to notice. Seeing his eyes dart to the seating plan before looking back at her, caught between confusion and vague understanding as Yang throws her bag under the table next to Blake’s and sits down. They’d promise later to pretend she didn’t threaten to beat him up if he didn’t change it, crimson eyes burning a hole into his chest from the back of the room. As the raven-haired girl strides to the front to introduce herself, she remains fixed on one thing; Yang. Considers ripping her heart out then and there to paint the room red, tell the blonde smirking at her across the class that this is how she makes her feel, ask if she’s okay with it. In reality, it beats against her ribcage and bruises her lungs as the words pour out, something more like a confession or a prayer just for Yang than an introduction. _Please, please just say you love me. Don’t make me wait years for it._

\-------------

Winter makes itself well-known on Patch. Snow falls long before the season ever officially starts, old streetlamps reflecting off the white powder and colouring the night in varying shades of white-gold. It’s a nice distraction from studying in Yang’s room as she lies on the bed, lazily writing information onto colour-coded flashcards. Blake’s cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by textbooks and highlighters, picking out important parts in several different books all at once; stealing glances at the blonde whenever she isn’t. An alarm ruins their fragile immersion, reminds them time actually passes even when they don’t want it to. Yang messes around with the clips and straps holding the headgear in place, finally allowed to be free for the day.

“‘Better than surgery’ my ass,” she grumbles, eliciting a giggle from beside her.

“At least no one makes fun of you for it!” Blake retorts, slamming the last book closed and falling backwards against the carpet.

“You did.” She’d almost sound hurt if it weren’t for the smirk on her face.

“And that’s why you love me,” the word slips out in their conversations without the meaning she wants to put behind it, “because no one else has the balls to do that, Miss Xiao Long.”

It’s her first time actually staying over since they met a few months ago, and Blake’s the last one to wake up, finding a note on the kitchen counter telling her they’d bring breakfast back with them. She finds herself looking at the massive frame full of family photos hanging haphazardly over the fireplace, the oldest one no doubt only from last year besides a picture of Tai and Ruby’s mother, Summer, making peace signs and beaming. Fifteen, and already imagining a picture frame just like the one before her, candids of Yang framed by sunsets, forests and armchairs. The door in the hallway flies open and the world unmutes. Ruby’s trying to convince her Dad to let her hang out somewhere with their Uncle Qrow later today, at least, based on the snippets Blake manages to catch before lilac eyes and slightly unkempt golden hair beg for all her attention. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and idly kicks the ground, realises how foreign a concept speech can be when she’s properly looking at her raven-haired classmate.

“Dad almost killed us for cutting up the older ones.” Ruby sidesteps past Yang and into the room, hands Blake a teacup and a salmon bagel.

“When he found out _why…_ ” the older sister finishes, taking her own mug of coffee and sitting down next to her friend,

“I dug up some ancient pictures of just Summer and I to fill the gaps.” Tai hovers in the entrance for a second before perching on the edge of the armchair that Ruby’s sinking into. “So, Blake, got any plans for when you finish high school?”

“She’s going where I do, Dad.” Yang swings an arm around her, tries her best to keep a straight face when she actually leans into the crook of her neck.

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Blake giggles, and the fabric of reality almost rejects it, impossibly endearing.

 _You love me too much to go anywhere else,_ the words are only held back by her tongue, forcing out something else in their place;  
“I’d miss you if you didn’t.” That’s not much better.

“ _If_ you two have finished flirting,” Ruby interrupts, “Blake’s ride home is here.” Even she sounds a little heartbroken at the idea of Blake leaving.

Blake, on the other hand, only realises how much she didn’t want to leave when she sees Adam again. Ice-blue eyes watch intently as she makes her way down the driveway. Her stomach lurches, heart begging to run back to Yang, back to someone who truly cares. It stops beating as she climbs into Adam’s car, disconnected and cold. She can finally hear herself think again, but all she can think about is Yang. He’s probably talking to her about some ‘great thing’ he’s done over the weekend; she’d stopped paying attention the moment he pulled away.  
_I’d miss you if I didn’t.  
_She hovers over the send button, waits until Adam isn’t looking to press it. Yang only responds with a heart emoji, but it makes Blake’s own stutter.

\-------------

The acceptance letter comes the day after Blake turns sixteen. Having a birthday in the middle of the exam period is hell, but she’d managed to rope Yang and her friend Weiss into a sleepover at the Belladonna household. She’s still in her pyjamas, but there’s a figure on the other side of the door, red hair visible through the frosted glass. Footsteps race down the stairs to join her, rooted to the spot, wanting so desperately to run but her body isn’t listening. Yang instinctively places herself in front of the faunus, eyes crimson and fists raised.

“It’s fine, Yang. It’s just Adam.” Blake hopes her voice isn’t scared enough to make the blonde double down.

“Sorry I’m early, I mean, uh, late, I guess. Night shift, the usual. Got you a present, if you open up!” He’s vile. Yang can tell that much from the only words she’s heard so far. Easily a few years older than Blake, and talking like _that_ to her. The alarm bells don’t stop as her friend steps around from behind her, shakily unlocks the door and lets it swing open so Yang is clearly seen.

“Do your parents know you’ve got… A girl, over?” Adam spits, the acid in his throat burning the air.

“They left a few minutes ago, I think,” Blake rubs her eyes, pretends she hasn’t been lying awake dreading this moment when he didn’t show last night.

“Tell them I said hi.” He doesn’t cross the entrance, places a wrapped gift atop the pile of letters they’d all been up waiting for before pulling the door closed and skulking away.

She doesn’t even open it before throwing it away. Her breathing’s ragged and uneven, her pulse is in her neck and she’s a few steps away from collapsing onto the ground. Scratch that, she’s on her knees in the kitchen, palms whitening against the marble floor, half-gasping half-sobbing. It’s too much; her heart screams whenever he’s near now, ears ringing to drown out whatever words he tries to say. He makes her sick. She tries her best to find Yang among it all, searches for the familiar lilac to lose herself in, to escape from blood red, black and blue. Golden waves fill her vision as Yang drops to the floor in front of her, rests a hand on her shoulder to prompt her to look up. Their foreheads touch, and it’s like the blonde can read her mind. _Don’t let me go. Don’t let me fall. Don’t go,_ it reverberates around her head like a song stuck on repeat, _don’t go._

“I’ll break his nose if he ever comes near you again.” It’s too real, too much of a threat. She means every word, and it’s outright terrifying how serious she can be. Yang lets Blake cry against her shoulder, knows it won’t be the last time either. It might not even be the first, if you count all the times in different worlds. She’s sure they exist. One world isn’t enough for the pair of them.

\-------------

Weiss is Yang’s best friend. Has been since they started at Signal. She picks up on the little things, the way her friend’s smile is a little wider whenever Blake’s around. In all honesty, she does her best to give them time alone, texts Pyrrha or Nora instead of Yang when she has nothing better to do. But, today, they both have an English exam, and Blake doesn’t. It’s not like they need to catch up, anything important could be said with a look, yet Weiss tents her fingers in front of her face and exhales sharply, preparing herself to ask the question burning a hole in the back of her mind.

“So… You’re going to the same college, sickening everyone there with your obvious heart-eyes, and then what?” Weiss rattling off the list doesn’t make it any easier to ignore. She doesn’t even look up from her revision map, but hums expectantly as she waits for an answer from Yang, sitting beside her with her legs kicked up onto the dining hall’s table.

“Going to different universities, I guess,” her heart sinks a little at the slightest idea of _that_ happening. “We’re not joined at the hip or dating or anything.” She wishes they were dating.

“You may as well be.” Weiss jabs, knows it hits a nerve but accepts her role in the play comfortably. Yang’s combat boots hit the floor with a distractingly loud bang, what feels like the entirety of the school turning to watch as she stands up.

“Don’t remind me.” The blonde’s voice cracks, eyes watering before she can do anything about it. Wipes away the emotions with her sleeve, pretends there’s nothing wrong. Of course, she wants to scream that she loves Blake. It’s the right thing to do. She taps out the words in a text as she storms away, practically tearing the world asunder, only to delete them before even leaving the cafeteria. _Not the right thing to be worrying about before exams,_ she repeats to herself, hopes her soul listens to reason instead of Blake’s voice. It never will.

\-------------

They go out together a lot during that Summer. One particular afternoon, Yang suggests they hang out at a park, claiming it’s a good use of her ‘I’m the birthday girl’ token. When Blake arrives, she decides that it was, in fact, an _excellent_ use of said token. Denim shorts and a sleeveless linen shirt, buttoned all the way to the top, replete with ever-present ankle boots and a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. She’s wearing her hair down, river of black running down her back and bangs coiled on either side of her face. Despite her presence being enough of a gift, she pulls a small box out of her bag as she gets closer. Yang straightens up almost automatically, runs a hand through messy blonde hair and beams as Blake sits down beside her. She’s a calm midnight in the summer heat, still cool while everything around her burns and melts. Universes end when her eyes flutter closed, cheeks red as she presents the black felt box to Yang.

A necklace, decorated with a single large amber stone. The way it catches the sunlight reminds her of exactly what it’s supposed to; Blake’s eyes, soothing and golden. Yang wipes a tear out of her eye as she continues to look, unabashedly enthralled by its lustre. When she finally tears herself away, it’s like she never stopped staring into it.

“Here I thought seeing you in something that wasn’t black would be the present,” Yang smirks, patting the bench beside her for Blake to sit closer.

“Thin ice, Yang,” the faunus laughs, crossing one leg over the other as she joins her, “happy birthday.” She scoops the taller girl into a sideways hug, turns her slightly so she can fasten the necklace on her friend’s neck.

“I’m never taking this off.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Yang leans backwards and interlaces her hands behind her head as she echoes Blake. “Clearly, I’ll need your help to do it anyway.”

Everything freezes right after she says it. At least, she’ll claim it did. Blake’s lips brush against her cheek and nothing else matters. Her world shatters at the concept, hand against her face to try and recapture the moment, rewind time and play it out again for forever. _That’s the real present here,_ she thinks, accepts an eternity with Blake like there was ever another choice. Their hands are intertwined before she can even think about it, red string of fate looped between their fingers before winding around their hearts. It’s the only thing keeping Yang’s from beating out of her chest, shouting confessions like a dying wish. _Please, just say you love me. Then we can start making up for lost time._

\-------------

Their friend was right. Rumours circle around Beacon that Yang and the quiet Belladonna girl are dating for the entire time they’re there. They sit on each other’s laps whenever they have free time on the campus together, whispering into each other’s ears and looping arms around each other’s waists from behind. If someone invites Yang or Blake somewhere, they know to expect the other’s imminent arrival as well. It’s so obvious to everyone that isn’t them, and it takes Weiss snapping to finally talk a little sense into one of them. They’re lounging around in one of the spacious rooms of Weiss’s townhouse when she closes her novel and places her glasses back into their case, thumb and forefinger replacing them on the bridge of her nose as she sighs,

“Why don’t you just ask her out, Blake?” She’s colder than usual, long past breaking point and deliberately letting it show.

“Yang-”

“’Yang’ nothing. I’m sick of seeing both of you dance around it. Is there something I don’t know?” Weiss asks, not expecting the response Blake gives her.

“We kissed.”

“You _what?”_

“About a month ago. She told me Tai and Ruby were going to see her uncle for a weekend and invited me over for drinks.” Blake recounts things so matter-of-factly that Weiss fails to hide her intrigue,

“Tell me. All of it.”

Yang’s about to fire off a message insulting her for being late when she rings the doorbell. Her bag is full of small liquor bottles that she’d raided from her parents’ drinks cabinet, after arguing that they’d go unused otherwise. In the unnatural halogen light of the Rose-Xiao Long hallway, Blake almost looks like a monument to beauty, purple crop top with cut-outs over her sternum and white skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

“Wow…” Yang does a terrible job of hiding her appraisal,

“Thanks. Made them myself,” Blake responds with an amused lilt, flexing and relaxing her abs, “is Yang home or do I have to deal with whatever gay mess she’s left as a stand-in?”

“Yang needs to do shots. Lots of them.” She pushes the door closed before following Blake into the living room, coffee table stacked high with alcohol choices.

The time on the clock is a blur, but Blake guesses it’s around midnight. Part of her wants to sleep, the other part could stay up all night staring at Yang. She stands, grabs her friend’s wrist and drags her upstairs. She doesn’t even make it to the bedroom before their foreheads are pressed against one another’s again. Over such a short distance, Blake can pretend Yang’s the only real thing in the world, that everything else until now was just a dream, and she’s finally waking up. The handle turns, and they’re both standing in the blue-black of Yang’s room, barely illuminated by moonlight slipping past the edge of the blackout curtains. Blake lowers her onto the bed before straddling her, gripping Yang’s chin between her thumb and forefinger to steady the blonde’s face before leaning down.

Eighteen and drunk. Just like most first kisses are imagined. Except this time, it’s real, it’s _really_ happening, and she’s the one who started it. If only it were her real first kiss. Their lips crash together, and Blake can taste the tequila Yang’s been doing shots of all night. Maybe she’ll remember it, remember laughing against Blake’s mouth before letting it part, tongue tracing over her lower lip. _Oh,_ Blake thinks, _I hope she remembers._ Her hand brushes a lock of blonde hair over one ear before stopping to caress Yang’s cheek, committing her face to memory even with her eyes closed. Looking into her eyes afterwards would be too much, so she settles on burying her face into the blonde’s shoulder, placing a light kiss on her collarbone as her pulse slows and breathing evens. The room drowns in the red of her blood, like she’d imagined doing three years ago. Yang’s hand falling through her hair is enough to answer the question that comes with it.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re pretty?” Yang slurs, the questioning tone giving way to giggles.

“You. Every time we drink.” Blake mumbles into her chest, clearly on the cusp of sleep.

“I mean it, hehee, I’m just scared to say it when I’m sober,” she pulls the faunus into a loose embrace, close enough that Blake can feel her body heat radiating away.

“Tell me in the morning, then. When you’re still drunk and I’ve got a hangover.”

“You’re preeeeetyyyyyy.” It’s whispered into her ear, but Blake definitely remembers it.

Weiss has to pick her jaw up off the floor by the time Blake’s finished. Something her best friend had neglected to mention for so long that she’d be hurt if she didn’t understand _why_ Yang kept it from her. Of course, it’d only make sense to someone who knew her as well as Blake or Weiss, and it goes unsaid between them save for a knowing glance. Yang’s _scared._

“Thank you. For telling me.” Weiss gives a restrained nod, returning to her book as though no information was even revealed.

“Are you coming to Haven as well?” Blake questions, trying her best to return to the earlier normalcy.

“My father’s insisting on me going to Atlas. Something about his funding part of the research centre. With any luck he’ll drop dead and I’ll inherit the company by the end of my four years there.” She says it so nonchalantly that her friend almost reels on her behalf,

“Don’t forget about us up there!” The raven-haired girl replies, bouncing back a little more, “I _promise_ we’ll meet up again over Summer. Even if I have to drag Yang out of bed myself.”

“Maybe it’d be easier if I just flew over to the pair of you,” Weiss huffs, “if you’re going to be that lazy about it.”

\-------------

Trying to fit all of their stuff into Blake’s car is the first mistake. Tai holds his hands up defencelessly every time Yang looks for a little help before she sighs, leaves her suitcase on the driveway and climbs into the front seat beside Blake. She can’t help but smile as an airy laugh erupts beside her, vaguely masked by a hand. After all, it was Blake’s idea to go by boat and bring the car, ‘in case we decide to go on a road trip,’ and _definitely_ not because it meant more time alone with the girl she’d fallen for.

“We’re sharing,” Yang explains, playful tone giving away her sarcasm.

“All the hoodies are yours anyway,” Blake retorts, shooting a glance at Tai as he reluctantly helps, “besides, you own like, what, two pairs of jeans total?”

“ _And_ a skirt,” she adds, almost helpfully.

“I still think you’re vastly overestimating the size of a dorm room wardrobe.”

Yang raises an eyebrow at her, looks in the back seats at the zippered bags containing Blake’s dresses before giving a judgemental exhale and relaxing into her seat. Music pours from the speakers as they pull away, and Blake thinks about linking their hands over the gearstick, screaming the lyrics of a song they both know far too well until her lungs give out. _Forget about university, let’s live a little before we get there,_ she wants to say, almost does as they drive onto the motorway. Oh, how easy it’d be to miss the exit and run away from everything. Run away with Yang. At least that way it might take a few months before Adam finds her. As long as there’s golden hair hanging in the corner of her eye, she’s invincible. Lost in thought, she really does almost miss the exit, joining the long line of cars at the terminal right as they start letting vehicles on.

The second mistake comes when they’re assigned rooms opposite one another. Blake keeps the walls sparse, a calendar and poster the only decorations to speak of. Novels are arranged in neat piles around the edge of the room once she runs out of shelf space, the next few finding their way into a line along the wall on a desk built into the space, evening sun pooling on it from the window behind. Clothes, save for dresses, are neatly folded into drawers as she runs a brush through her hair, tying it into a low ponytail when Weiss’s face flashes up on her scroll.

“I would’ve thought you’d call Yang first,” Blake says, holding her scroll to her ear with her shoulder as she wrestles a jumper out of her suitcase.

 _“I did.”_ Weiss’s voice crackles through the speaker, “ _And now I’m telling you the same thing. Take her out. Tonight. Now that nothing’s stopping you.”_

She was almost right. One thing was stopping her. The idea that Adam would somehow be waiting for them, heartbreak mixing and burning with the anger in his eyes. She can already see the dull red of his hair, feel his hands wrapping so hard around her wrists they start to bruise, ripping her heart out and crushing it in his palm as he mutters something about being made for each other. How she’d leave Yang alone, again, just like Raven and Summer did. Thinking about it like that made her stomach unfurl, blood suddenly weighing her down and stopping her from moving no matter how much she wanted to run away and keep her friend safe. She gasps, and it’s the only indication she’s still on the line before Weiss speaks again,

_“Trust me. She loves you.”_

Her scroll goes silent, and she messes around with the cuffs of her jumper before opening the door to cross the hallway. Third mistake. Blake knocks on the door, does her best to ignore how clammy her palms are, or the fact she’s approximately one Yang sighting away from heart failure. It’s moments like this that truly stretch out into infinity, and she feels as though she’s somehow being stood up despite the second hand on the clock down the hall not moving. Fortunately, thankfully, the handle turns, unlocking from the inside and letting her walk through. She doesn’t even try to hide her grin at the massive flag almost taking up one wall, horizontal blue, pink and white stripes stretching from the ceiling to the side of Yang’s bed. A cork board hangs on the opposite side, push-pins holding up several Polaroids of herself with Blake and her family.

There’s a look in the blonde’s eyes that Blake can’t quite place. She’s seen every facet of Yang’s being besides this one; it’s softer than anything she’d recognise, barely registering the fact that she’s automatically closing the gap between them. A hand reaches up to brush her bangs out of her eyes, cupping her cheek and feeling Blake’s heavy breath against it, the first since she’d entered the room, she realises.

“Blake?” Yang manages to make the name sound like a song, a prayer, head tilted slightly and hand unmoving.

“I, uh,” Blake grasps for words, loses them in the taller girl’s eyes until she looks away, “I thought, maybe you’d like to go somewhere tonight. If you’re not busy, or anything.”

“Busy?” Her voice lowers, teasing. _Like I’d ever be busy if you asked,_ she thinks.  
“I don’t think so.” Pretending there’s an alternative is as good a way of keeping the mood light as any.

“Good. Ramen?”

“ _God_ yes!”

A bubbly redhead takes their order once they’re comfortably seated in a booth. Even in the dim lights Yang burns as bright as a second sun, eyes widening a little in realisation as she turns back to Blake, mouth slightly agape with the same thought on her lips,

“Isn’t she _completely_ Weiss’s type?” She manages to get the words out before Yang, though only barely.

“I was gonna say she might steal your heart, but sure, whatever,” the blonde smirks a little as her date’s face drops, “Weiss has a thing for Pyrrha anyway.”

Blake nearly spits out her water at the revelation, though it’s not really a surprise in hindsight.  
“ _Pyrrha?_ Talk about a high bar.”

“She’ll probably have to jump to kiss her even in heels. A bit like you, Belladonna.”

“You aren’t _that_ tall.” The joke escapes before she realises the implications, “… you remember that night?”

“My-” Yang falters. Whatever words she can think of to describe Blake don’t cut it. They’re not friends, it’s more than that. Girlfriend seems far too intimate for just a kiss, but, of course, it was never _really_ just a kiss. “-you, sitting astride me and making out with me in my room? I’d be an idiot if I forgot.”

“I was worried I might have to give you a reminder.” The raven-haired girl tries her best to stay neutral, but a hint of disappointment sneaks into her throat with the words.

“Maybe I’ll forget about it tonight.”

Their bowls slide in front of them, relative silence overriding any potential conversation, the only noise being the chatter of other patrons and slurping of noodles.

Lights from storefronts dance in puddles as they walk back to the dorms, bounce and scatter off Yang’s leather jacket and pants as a dull glow. Blake’s hair absorbs all the different colours, changes as they walk, white jumper stained orange by the streetlights while the rain does its best to start once more, ripples distorting reflections. It’s the first time Yang manages to say the words while sober, and Blake’s heart drops a beat, same as always.

“You’re _so_ fucking pretty.”

“Ever heard of a mirror?” Blake spins on her heel, lets her eyes dip to Yang’s exposed collarbone, “if anyone’s winning a beauty contest here it’s you.”

“Okay, fine.” The blonde pouts, arms crossing over her chest as she hums, “we’re _both_ pretty.”

Without another word, the universe reforms for them once more. Blake’s hands on Yang’s shoulders. The latter’s hands resting on the former’s hips. She’s sure Yang whispered something about a reminder, can’t be certain without her mouth pressed to her ear. Blonde hair mixes with black as she stretches up enough for their lips to touch, curling at the edges as they’re teased apart. They kiss, and stars align, reflected in lilac eyes. They kiss, and the world comes apart at its seams. They kiss, Blake just about processes it. They kiss.

\-------------

Yang’s an English major. By all counts, she should be able to think of a word to describe their relationship. In fact, she’s about two days away from scouring through an actual dictionary to find the right one. Girlfriend makes a fairly compelling argument right now; Blake’s lying beside her, taxed for space on the single sized dorm bed, pulled as tightly against her as possible, one arm draped loosely over her waist. She’s still mumbling the song’s lyrics into Yang’s ribcage, its cadence proving just enough to drown out the winds whispering outside as part of an autumn rainstorm.

“Hey, Blake?” Their eyes meet and she’s still only just able to cope with it. “You ever think about… this? Us?” The words don’t quite match up with what Yang’s looking at, but they leave her mouth like an “I love you”.

Blake’s features flicker with familiarity, like she’s entertained the concept but arrived at the same impasse before. Her hand splays against the blonde’s stomach as she pushes herself to sit more upright and in line with Yang.

“I give everyone I meet a word.” She admits, head dropping a little,

“What’s mine?” Curiosity takes over, “I have to have one by now, right?”

“Strength.” Blake blushes, but it’s different to the other times. An admission too far, the last step over the cliff and into freefall.

“And Weiss?”

“Defiance.” Finally, after an eternity, she can breathe again. “I doubt she’d agree to go to Atlas if it meant staying under her father’s thumb the whole time.”

“Do we have one? Together?”

“I like to think we do. But I haven’t found it yet.”

For an all-too-brief moment their word is lust, eyes locking and wanting nothing more than to avoid the rest of the conversation. So, it ends just like Yang expected; blood rushing through her veins to feel Blake’s touch as she pulls out of a kiss, hand trailing down the blonde’s arm and linking with hers.

\-------------

‘Home’ isn’t her parents’ house any more. It’s there, in Haven, sharing a student apartment with Yang. That’s what Blake realises when she’s staring out of the window of her old room, trying her best to ignore the downtrodden reflection and focus on the snow. The faint hum of the central heating is the only thing that breaks through the ringing in her ears, reminds her that reality and her family are still sitting downstairs, laughing and catching up with friends like they do every Christmas Eve. A familiar car drives past, and she feels her soul lurch away in protest. Of course, he’s out there. Why would Adam have anything better to do with his night. She waits out a few more passes, fights against every fibre of her being that’s already screaming to leave. If she wants to get away, she’ll have to do it right.

Kali sees her once she’s halfway out the door, walking boots pulled on over pyjama bottoms bearing her own icon and winter coat half-fastened, covering the black tank top she’d had since she was a teenager. She’s twenty, and it’s not like her mother would’ve stopped her had she been any younger either. Instead, Kali opts for a doting smile and a shooing motion, carrying two wine glasses back into the kitchen for refills. The snow is deep and still falling, boots disappearing into the powder with every step, arms pulled tight across her stomach and shivering, beanie doing little to protect her ears as they twitch underneath it. Five minutes to get clear of the route she knows Adam is taking. Without noticing, without thinking, Blake’s half-sprinting in snow halfway up her calves, cold burning dully in her legs and biting at bare hands. All that matters is Yang.

“ _Yang!_ ”

Once is enough to make the blonde woman lifting a suitcase into her house decide she never wants to hear her name said like that again. She’s wearing a tan parka and woollen leggings adorned with a festive pattern, brown knee-high boots buried in snow. Despite having a hood, its decidedly down, snowflakes caught and melting in her hair, head turning slightly to acknowledge the voice behind her.

Blake’s standing at the end of her driveway, pyjamas soaked in melting snow and boots covered in white-grey slush, lips blue and chest heaving. _Still as beautiful as ever,_ Yang thinks, drops the case by the door and runs to her, pulls the purple beanie off her head and places a kiss against the mess of black hair spilling out from underneath it, hands finding their way to her shoulders.

“You walked here?” Yang asks, discovering the answer as she pulls Blake closer and feels just how much heat she’s giving up, wants to give even more. “I told you I’d be here from Christmas Day.” She rubs small circles into Blake’s back, notes how she relaxes in response.

“That wasn’t soon enough,” she wrings out, knows it’s an obvious lie, knows Yang won’t challenge her about it.

“You’re fucking freezing.” The blonde states, adds a dry laugh in the hopes some small movement will keep her warm,

“Thanks.” Blake still doesn’t let go; wishes she could be as warm as Yang is in the winter.

 An electric heater that was the mainstay of their long study nights at Beacon clicks on before Yang digs through her closet for blankets. Blake’s perched on the bed, making sure there’s a direct line between it and her, bathing in a red-orange glow, shivers still reverberating through her whole body. With her friend’s attention directed elsewhere, she works the cold, wet pyjamas down her legs before doing the same with the tank top, lifting it up and over, making a small pile on the floor.

“Right in front of my innocent eyes?” Yang smirks, eyes trailing along the line of Blake’s collarbone, the curve of her breasts, the lithe, defined muscle all over her body. She considers dropping the blankets, straddling Blake and kissing her until she can’t think about the cold any more, until she can’t think about anything besides digging her nails into Yang’s shoulders.

“You’ve seen me like this plenty of times,” Blake giggles, golden eyes lighting up like they’re focusing for the first time all over again,

“Not in my room!” Yang sputters, irises flickering red as her mind darts to places it shouldn’t and back.

“Oh, right.”

Blake stands, ears flicking as they leave the blast of heated air, forces Yang to watch her pad towards the light switch and flick it, the only illumination left in the room being that of the heater. In the warm light, naked save for a pair of boyshorts, Blake’s a monolith to sin, a challenge, an invitation, half-illuminated and finger curling towards herself, asking, pleading, begging the blonde to take her on. Yang’s sure her eyes are red now. Not that anyone could tell; not that either of them cared. The last thing she sees are Blake’s hooded eyes fluttering closed, lips so desperately inviting. She accepts. It’s not alcohol-fuelled this time, nor a reminder of past transgressions. Burning and soothing all at once, she drags her teeth on Blake’s bottom lip while the shorter girl’s hands find themselves either side of Yang’s neck and fall limp.

“Just… For tonight.” Blake whispers, more to herself than anything, lowering Yang onto the bed and pulling the mess of blankets over both of them. _Just be here with me tonight._ As though she’d be able to spend the rest of winter break without Yang.

“How about forever,” the blonde replies, mouth still pressed against Blake’s hair and curled into a smile. “I think we can do forever.” She means it.

\-------------

That’s why Blake feels so sick when Adam finds her. _Forever,_ she’d promised Yang, forever. He’s all she can focus on the moment he steps into the café, strides over the store and takes a seat opposite her like he’s the one she’s been expecting. The twisted grin doesn’t even bother hiding itself, cool eyes chilling her heart and making limbs numb.

“So, Blake. All those years of thinking you’d come to Vacuo, to be with me, and you’re _here_ instead?” Adam sweeps his arm around, nose turning up in disgust.

“I never _wanted_ to be with you, Adam. You should’ve known that.” Blake’s words evoke a proud lion, but her posture’s little more than that of the scared little girl who collapsed on a kitchen floor five years ago. “There’s _much_ more to my life than you.”

“For now.” He pulls a scroll out of his pocket, flicks to pictures of her family. “It’d be a damned shame to lose Kali and Ghira in a tragic house fire.”

Hearing their names makes her sick.

“What are you even planning to do?”

“We’re made for each other, Blake. I’m just trying to help you see that.”

“By killing my parents!?” She exclaims, volume strangled by Adam’s vice-like grip on her arm, burning and bruising as he stands.

“Yes. I’ve missed how quickly you catch on, my love.” The words ooze out of his mouth, tongue darting  over his lips like a predator, preparing to strike. He drops her arm back to the table, casually shoving his hands back into his pockets and walking out, shooting her a momentary glance before slinking away.

Blake pulls her other arm back above the table, knuckles whitened around her scroll, plays back a brief few seconds of the recording to ensure she got it all before sending it to her mother; she’s a lawyer, after all. She taps out a message to follow it;

_I hope that’s enough. Please tell me it’s enough._

_I’ll make it work. Get to somewhere safe – Kali_

_You too._

The pressure on her shoulders doesn’t lift, even though she’s finally able to stand again. She rubs her arm, purple marks already forming, tugs her tan cardigan on over the back of the chair, fiddles with the laces of her combat boots before walking back home. Every hair on her body rises, steps pounding even in her chest, resonating with her heart. _I can’t do forever,_ Blake realises, _not right now._ That’s when reality shatters. Running from the one person who promised she’d be there. Yang. Each and every universe they might have together is on its knees, praying for her mind to sway. She whispers Yang’s name like an answer to them, like it means _everything,_ like her name alone is the language of celestial beings.

Stealing isn’t usually something Blake’s a fan of, but she makes an exception as she pulls the pin holding a photo of herself with the Rose-Xiao Long family on Christmas day out, tosses it in the top of a hastily packed bag. _Away from here_ is the only real plan she has, car keys stuffed into her back pocket as the door to the apartment unlocks. She freezes, for a brief moment; the shock of blonde hair stepping into the living room with her makes her think twice.

“There’s… A guy.” Blake starts, shifting to inspect a photo of Yang and her sister, mere months before she met them intently before placing it back down on the mantlepiece and sniffling. “Or rather, there _was_ a guy.”

Even with tears streaming down her face alongside the black hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, Yang still thinks she’s otherworldly. Something finally shattered, forced its way through all of Blake’s walls and stabbed her in the heart, and there’s nothing either of them could’ve done about it. Yang didn’t get chance to break its nose. It’s something she laments as words spill out of her mouth without prompting or forethought;

“Baby,” the word hangs in the air, refuses to be processed by either of them. _It just slipped out,_ she wants to backtrack, realises it’s not the time or place but continues anyway, “what the hell happened to you?”

Blake finds her home in the taller girl’s arms, respite from the ash and blood encroaching on her vision. With Yang it’s all honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass, fifteen and sitting carelessly on the field at Beacon. Eighteen and drunk with the world at their feet. Twenty, and breaking her heart as she leaves without rhyme or reason. It’s not her fault; Adam’s always had a habit of burning down everything he touches, only this time he threatened to take her entire life with him. _Why,_ Blake wants to scream, _why did I have to meet you first._

“I’ve gotta go, Yang. I am so, _so_ sorry.” _I love you too much to say any more._

“It’s funny, you’re almost making this sound like a goodbye.” Yang mumbles against black hair, fails to hide the trembling of her voice.

“It’s not goodbye,” she shivers, buries sobs in the blonde’s chest, “ _never_ goodbye.” The last of her resistance crumbles, pulling away and grabbing the collar of Yang’s leather jacket, straining on tiptoe to make their lips meet. The momentary euphoria is all the head start she needs. Her car’s screeching away by the time Yang’s on the stairs down to street level. _Never goodbye,_ she repeats to herself, refuses to turn around and go back for her heart, hopes it hardens in her time away.

\-------------

“You look ridiculous.” Weiss remarks, face grimacing a little at the monstrosity attached to Yang’s face, notes the girl following behind her with books clutched tightly to her chest.

“So do you. Plus, Blake thinks I’m hot like this, right Blake?” The blonde pats a seat beside her, wants to repeat her name even more, make everything she does about her.

“I, ummm…”

“Don’t humour her, Blake,” Weiss interrupts, curtly. “She doesn’t need the ego boost.”

“Your _best friend_ comes to catch up with you and this is the thanks I get?” Yang drops her scroll on the table, timer ticking down until she can take the headgear off again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were parading the new girl around and telling everyone you were going to marry her.” She’s only partly joking.

She’s known Yang for nearly a decade now, and that’s more than enough time to tell when something changes. A lever’s been flipped, one Weiss didn’t even know her friend had, and it sneaks into every slight smile, every laugh that rings like a thunderclap, hanging on all Blake’s words and then some. Her mind jumps back to when Yang first came out, that first time she smiled and meant it. Somehow, this mysterious new girl is even more than that. If she looks at Blake from the right angle, she can almost make out cracks on fragile skin, attention dragged away from them by purple eyeshadow and analytical golden eyes, turning to focus on her.

“So, how did you two meet?” Blake asks, giggles at the juxtaposed reactions; Yang grins, while Weiss’s head falls against her crossed arms on the table.

“First, she had braces. That’s not super relevant, by the way, but I have to tell everyone.” _Another reason I didn’t want them,_ she almost adds, “Second, I was the only girl who talked to her after she got outed, before Nora and Pyrrha showed up.” It’s through gritted teeth, but that’s the only giveaway she’s still genuinely angry at what happened.

Blake knows better than to push for information on things like that, caught between grim understanding and a laugh at how Yang tells it.

“It’s very heart-warming, really. ‘If anyone calls you anything, I’ll make sure they need braces too’. I was touched.” Weiss lifts her chin onto the backs of her palms, eyeing the pair once again.

“That’s what good friends do.”

A bell rings, and Blake accepts she’ll be late to class as her new friends insist on showing her to the room. It’s only when the door swings closed that Weiss drops her pleasantries.

“I take it she’s sticking around?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Yang’s eyes tell the whole story even if her words don’t. _Of course, she is, what sort of a question is that?_

\-------------

Blake _ran._ Yang’s tried calling her so often she’s lost count, kept calling despite the automated voice telling her the number was no longer in use. Their playlist bleeds into the air through tinny speakers; with her eyes closed, she can almost picture Blake slowly twirling across the room, purple dress flaring out and heels in hand, cheeks tinted red due to alcohol. She hears herself giggling, repeating that Blake’s beautiful until she finally leans too far forwards and falls off the bed, laughs harder as she’s joined by Blake, staring into the patterns on the ceiling and critiquing the oldness of it. Her thumb rolls down to “Belladonna” in her contacts once more, reads through all the messages that failed to send, things she should’ve said when the girl she’d loved for five years was about to walk out of her life.

 _I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking you to love me._  
We could run together.  
If you leave I don’t have a reason to stay either.

The last one is why she’s surrounded by boxes. There’s too much of her, too much of Blake wherever she looks. A life roughly thrown on hold, its owner sprinting away through the cracks and splinters, but Yang can still see her reflection in the broken pieces. Weiss calls her, and for once the line isn’t busy trying to reach Blake.

“ _Are you sure you’ll be okay?”_ Genuine concern is a rare tone for her friend, and she can practically hear Weiss pacing on the other end.

“I made it three months in this apartment, I don’t think Ruby being around means I can take care of myself any less.” Yang’s ignoring the spectre that looms over the conversation, but not well enough.

“ _You know that’s not what I mean. Ever since Blake-”_

“She _chose_ to leave, Weiss. No calls, no texts. She just… ran!” She runs a hand through her hair, wonders if she’s really angry at Blake or the fact she couldn’t stop her. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“ _I know you always thought she’d stick around forever.”_ A beat of silence accompanies Yang’s jaw dropping open at the reminder. _“You’d get together once you were older, get married, and live out whatever happily ever after meant to you at fifteen. And you’re telling me all of that goes away just because she did!?”_ Weiss snapping is always unnerving; it only happens when she knows she’s right.

“I’m not I just-I mean… I never got to tell her that.” She holds her bottom lip still with her teeth, rubs away tears with the heels of her hands. Everything’s still blurry no matter how many times she blinks.

 _“You’re studying English and creative writing, and you never did something cliché to show you love her?”_ The jab is light-hearted enough to shake a little sense into Yang, just as intended.

“Couldn’t find the right words, I guess.” _There’re too many words for Blake._ Words like beautiful, mysterious, rebellious, and enchanting.

_“Maybe when I get my father’s company back, I can help you send the right ones to her.”_

The line goes dead, and Yang cracks a smile for what feels like the first time in centuries. It’s probably a little fucked up to be pleased at the idea of your closest… Whatever Blake is, sitting alone just like her and staring blankly at a screen searching for the right things to say. _There has to be a reason,_ the blonde thinks, slides a finger under the lid of her laptop and finally presses the keys, each stroke bringing her closer to the words she’d wanted to say all those months ago. _Talk to me now, Blake. Tell me why you left._ Her cursor tracks back up to the top of the page, adds a title in bold and underlined:

** When She Runs **

\-------------

“I never wanted to leave,” Blake confides in her new roommate, Sun, “I just couldn’t stay knowing Adam might come after us. After _her_.”

“So, you decided to have him chase you across the planet to me?” Sun rubs the back of his head, tail bringing a drink to his mouth.

“Not exactly. My Mum’s bringing a case against him. Police found his apartment and enough evidence to get a restraining order, maybe put him behind bars for the rest of his life.” She stares into her tea; can’t shake the fact she’s still looking at the girl who ran from everything she ever wanted, how broken and lopsided her smile is.

“Why don’t you go back to her?” Blunt, but effective. Just like Yang.

“It’s not that simple,” She sighs, brushes her bangs out of her eyes.

“Why not?” He waves for a waitress, politely signals for the bill while he continues, “I’m sure Haven would much rather you finish your degree than be rushing around behind a bar every night. If Adam’s not around, what’s-”

“I said I’m not.” _I can’t break Yang’s heart again._ That’s what she really means. At least hers is gone, lead pendulum swinging in its place and weighing on her chest. _Could she even love me after what I did?_ It takes Sun speaking up to inform her that, yes, she did in fact say that aloud.

“Something tells me she never stopped.” He tacks it on like an afterthought, like it didn’t really need saying, offers Blake her coat as he tugs his shirt back onto his shoulders.

She doesn’t reply, but the idea burns itself into her head during her shift. It’s been nearly a year, and for the first time in months everything’s tinted by Yang again. Or rather, she’s stopped ignoring the colours she didn’t want to see, the purples and yellows filling her vision as smoothly and easily as the scotch she was pouring for a regular. It’s the little things, as well; when someone gets pushy a fire ignites in the pit of her stomach, begs to fight instead of run, every word closer to waking a sleeping dragon. Maybe they’re words Yang’s said about her in some other life; things she wanted to say in this one but never got the chance.

As the bar empties, hands of the clock slowly advancing on two AM, Blake’s finally given permission to play her own music as she and Neptune clean the bar. It’s their first time closing together, Blake’s first time closing with someone else, in fact. He barely even notices until a few verses in, but Blake’s singing along. A smile ghosts across her face, accompanies the sweet-but-haunting notes perfectly, heartbreak almost becoming tangible through the barriers that normally hold strong.  
_So make this one easy for me;_  
Say your love is more than I’ll ever need;  
Maybe then; maybe then I might believe;  
That one kiss is all we’ll ever be;

\-------------

Weiss barely even glances over the manuscript that’s dumped in front of her, glasses still low on her nose; it’s good, of course it’s good, Yang wrote it. That’s not the reason she brought it to the young CEO either. She lets her hair out of its ponytail, delicately wrapping the black ribbon around her hand as it comes loose, treats it like it might break if breathed upon. Hidden inside a half-written letter from Blake that she’d found while clearing out her former… Blake’s, old room. _I didn’t know what to get you,_ Yang recalls the words just as much as she does her tears thudding onto the page, _so I decided to give you this instead, it goes with your necklace._ An amber gemstone rests against her chest, uncovered for once, her orange t-shirt’s neckline lower than usual, short black formal jacket pulled over it.

“I’ll make some calls, then.” Weiss delicately slices through the tension in the room, pulls it apart with the clicking of buttons on the office phone.

“Wait,” Yang’s hand holds her wrist millimetres from pressing the last number, “can I add a dedication?”

The girl sitting opposite her sighs, and it sounds more annoyed than she meant it to. Pulling a pen from behind her ear, she places the phone back down and watches intently as a few words are written in neat cursive on the title page.

_To the girl who left,  
I love you for all your words._

“I thought you hated her?” Weiss asks, deliberately stepping over a line they’d drawn a year ago.

“I do,” Yang deadpans. _I hate that I can still picture her smile. I hate that we met at fifteen and only realised what we meant to each other when everything was falling apart. I hated that goodbye._ “But I can’t.” Like that makes any sense.

Her friend nods as if it does, eyes sympathetic.

“If this doesn’t become a bestseller, I might have to get a new friend.” She smirks weakly, shaking white hair into a more comfortable position.

“It’ll be a hit. Trust me!” Yang offers a half-wave as she pulls the door to Weiss’s office open. Sincerity sweeps across her face for a brief second, tints her words with unexpected weight, “if you hear _anything_ about Adam…”

“I’ll call.”

“Call _her_ first.” _The world’s a decidedly better place with her in it._ Even if neither of them has her current number, the Schnee Corporation has more than enough resources to find it out, subtle or not. Both of them know that.

\-------------

Despite everything, Yang’s number is firmly etched into her muscle memory. All she can do is hope she didn’t change phones in the meantime. Her name is embossed into the spine of the book, yellow text on midnight blues and deep ochres, and Blake will swear it called to her across the entire store the moment she set foot inside. To the critics and bloggers raving about it, it probably just reads as the next big thing, knowing exactly when to shut up and when to wax lyrical about the girl the main character is chasing after. To Blake, it’s so much more than that. An apology, wrapped in spite and riddled with emotions, raw and passionate. She’s reading her own heart printed out onto paper, smashed against Yang’s so hard neither is distinguishable from the other.

“Hi.”

 _“Hi.”_ Yang’s voice is enough to calm storms and start them all over again.

“Yang, I-” Blake begins, just about ready to say everything and anything to make it up to her.

 _“You read my book?”_ She asks so casually it almost hurts, almost reaches through the display and tugs on her heart strings. Almost.

“What-yeah, I did.” Her finger twists through a lock of hair, coils it around; she thinks about pulling to make sure she’s not dreaming. “I saw the dedication, too.”

 _“Then you know exactly what I’m about to say.”_ The voice is replaced by a disconnect sound and the bell above the entrance ringing. Blake realises exactly who it is.

Yang double-checks the name of the bar against the flickering sign above its entrance, cross-references it with the name Sun gave her. He’d reached out to her shortly after the book started making waves, asked if she was the same Yang Xiao Long their friend had talked about and was still heartbroken over. When she asked why, she could almost picture his smile. _If you and her don’t work out, I guess I won’t be her friend any more._ He laughed, but he was right on the money; Blake might very well hate him for doing this. Yang leaned against the door, pushing it open with her shoulder and stepping inside. A nice enough place, and she’s there about half an hour before opening, spots a copy of the novel bookmarked on the last page before the afterword and shakes her head. Of course, Blake would _actually_ read those things, even if it is mostly Weiss rambling about how personal of a story this might be to some people. _Both of those people are standing in this bar_ , Yang repeats to herself, hand grasping the door handle and stopping it from loudly slamming shut.

Stepping back out of the cloakroom, dressed in all-black, Blake pulls her t-shirt a little straighter and looks down to make sure the laces on her sneakers are tied. At least, she was, until a familiar voice snatches all of her attention.

“I love you.” Sudden enough to make her jump, and weak enough to break her composure. From where she’s standing, Yang looks tiny, half-peeking around the archway that separates the kitchen from the rest of the room. Blake swears it’s like she’s making up for lost time. “I thought, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” She doesn’t sound angry; far from it, in fact. _Inevitable,_ she recognises the feeling from six years ago, what it was like seeing Yang that very first time, deciding in an instant that their fates were intertwined.

“Maybe it’d sound ridiculous, I guess.” The blonde straightens up, takes a few tentative steps towards her, unsure exactly where they stand after so long apart. “I mean we never even dated, and I-”

“You thought I might not say it back.” Blake smiles, warmer than expected, but fractured like it was when they first met all those years ago. “What ever gave you that idea?” _Please, Yang, make this easy for me._

“You _left,_ Blake.” _And I wanted to leave with you._

“I-I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that you wouldn’t-” _if you didn’t love me, he wouldn’t come after you._

“Yeah, well, I thought I wouldn’t too.” Yang’s closed the distance without Blake noticing, lets their lips ghost across each other as tears fall like a rainstorm, a moment of brief reassurance. “Baby,” she echoes, still not the right time, “what the _hell_ happened to you?”

Blake thinks about kissing her back, harder, pretending the last two years never happened, stealing her heart from Yang’s back pocket and hoping she doesn’t notice. That they could carry on pretending she doesn’t owe the blonde anything. She owes her _everything_ and then some.

“Adam. You met him once, I think.” Her carefully constructed defences fall, but they’re held in place by Yang’s arms around her. “He tried to take everything away from me.”

“I came back, didn’t I?” Yang knows what she’s implying, what Blake really meant by ‘everything.’ Kali made doubly sure of that when she asked Yang to give a statement about that time.

“Yang,” she pauses, needs to stand on her own and look into those watering lavender eyes she’s missed so much to say what follows, “I promise. I’ll never leave you again.”

“I know you won’t.” The blonde doesn’t elaborate; Adam going to prison made national news thanks to Weiss’s influence and refusal to be paid off. She pulls Blake close again, has no idea how either of them survived so long alone, smiling against the river of black hair below her chin.

\-------------

It’s a few more weeks of getting used to each other’s existence again before Blake’s ready. She packed a bag, making sure not to forget the polaroid that hung over her bed at Sun’s place, left a message with Neptune that he needed a new roommate, and set off for Mistral, for Yang. Her hand hovers in front of the door, only to be replaced by a warm smile, lilac eyes framed by cascading golden bangs.

“Funny, I was about to ask if you felt like coming out tonight!” She smirks, steps to one side and lets Blake in.

“I said I’d be in Vacuo until I found a new place,”

“And I didn’t believe you,” Yang picks her girlfriend’s suitcase up and carries into her own bedroom, “plus, you _have_ a place. Right here. It’s a bit smaller than our old one, but Ruby’s moving out to live with this other girl- Penny something? Anyway, I have a spare room.”

“We aren’t sharing?” Blake’s mock-offense is so convincing she almost backs down, but the illusion breaks as a hand cups her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

Yang kisses her in lieu of words, or perhaps due to an overabundance of them. All of them, in fact. She’d be here for millennia if she had to write them all down, probably has done one time or another, but a kiss will suffice in this life. Their souls spill and mix, drawn together and filling in each other’s fractures. This time, Yang opens her eyes and Blake’s still standing there, yellow eyes gazing back at hers, tan cardigan and purple graphic t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans with canvas trainers, hands still holding bunches of the blonde’s favourite band t-shirt away from her chest. Twenty-two, and it’s finally real.

“Oh, we’re sharing. I just actually have an office now.”

“Exploiting my love to make a writing den already?” Blake sighs into Yang’s shoulder, “at least ask me what our word is first.”

“Okay. Blake Belladonna, what word would you use to describe us?”

“Soulmates.”


End file.
